If Felch had Never Stolen the Blade - A Taggerung Tale
by KazenoShun
Summary: Based on my own musings on Tumblr about how the story of Taggerung may have been different if Felch had never stolen Sawney Wrath's blade.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I do not own Redwall

 **A/N:** This story was originally written for and posted on my Tumblr blog, RedwallThoughts. The italics are taken from the first post I made musing about what might have happened if things had turned out differently in Taggerung. The non-italics are the story that I developed afterward.

* * *

 _Imagine for a moment if Felch hadn't run away in Taggerung and therefore Sawney hadn't ordered Tagg to kill Felch so Tagg didn't have to run away._

Felch hadn't expected anybeast to help him search for Sawney's knife that night, least of all the Taggerung. So when Tagg joined him combing through the underbrush, he was startled. The young otter said nothing, merely worked his way back and forth in a companionable silence. They found the knife just before dark, Tagg pressing the blade into Felch's paw and extracting a promise before disappearing into the dusk. Felch watched him go until the sleek form was lost to view, before turning back toward the camp to make good on his promises. To return to camp and receive the punishment Sawney had planned for him, and to never speak of how Tagg had helped to find the knife.

Tagg lay on his back by the stream, to far from the camp to hear anything and yet with Felch's screams ringing in his ears. He did not doubt that Sawney would follow through with his promise to take Felch's ear, but at least Felch would keep his life. Tagg had made sure of that before going to help the hapless fox. He had also told Felch that his life was forfeit if he ran. Lulled by the sound of running water, Tagg began to slip towards slumber. Before his eyes closed, however, he made a vow to himself that so long as Sawney Rath was leader of the Juskarath he would do everything in his power to protect the weaker members of the clan from Sawney's anger. With that final thought, Tagg slid off into dreams of otters and tall red buildings and a mouse dressed in armor who called him Deyna.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own Redwall

 **A/N:** This story was originally written for and posted on my Tumblr blog, RedwallThoughts. The italics are taken from the first post I made musing about what might have happened if things had turned out differently in Taggerung. The non-italics are the story that I developed afterward.

* * *

 _Imagine if Tagg had instead inherited leadership of the clan when Sawney died and the clanbeasts weren't entirely sure what to think of the new chief, but they knew he was kinder than the old chief and that he actually tried to take care of them so they decided to just wait and see what happened._

The winter was hard on all of them, but none moreso than Sawney Rath. For the first time in many seasons, the clanbeasts did not fear Sawney's unchecked anger. His age and the pains in his stomach had finally caught up with him. He lay, shivering and moaning within his tent. It seemed that not even the hottest fire could warm him.

As Sawney's health worsened, Tagg took to venturing out into the realm of snow and ice, often disappearing for a day or two before returning to camp. Soon the trips grew longer, taking three, or even four days. On his final venture into the snowy wilderness he was gone for six days, returning half-frozen and with one ear lost to frostbite. By that point it seemed that Sawney was so far gone that Tagg did not dare to wonder off again, lest the clan leader die while was away.

The night that Sawney died, Tagg said nothing, simply sat by the fire staring into the flames. There was no love lost between Tagg and Sawney, yet Tagg could not help feeling very small with the ferret gone. At 17 seasons, he was now the leader of the clan. The weight of the responsibility came crashing down on his young shoulders. Wherrul and Felch buried Sawney, digging as deep as they could in the snow and covering the rest with stone. Wherrul muttered the entire time, but Felch stayed quiet and watched Tagg. The fox had never spoken of Tagg's help that summer evening, as indeed he had promised, but he had quickly become Tagg's most loyal follower.

Tagg and Felch were gone the following dawn when the clan awoke. But the pair returned by noon, shivering and wet, yet bearing between them a line heavy with fish caught in the river. Tagg doled out the fish, telling the clan to eat what they needed, and prepare the rest for travel on the morrow. With stomachs full for the first time since summer, the clanbeasts were loathe to argue. When the next morning broke, so did the camp. Tents pulled down and food packed up for the 10 day march Tagg said awaited them. They complained then, not liking to strike out into the unknown. But the new chieftain was adamant, and soon they went. The complaining struck up again when the tenth day dawned with no sign of stopping, but by dusk it had once again fallen quiet as the clan approached the caves Tagg had found. He told them of how he had journeyed out in search of better shelter, and though the caves were furthest from where the camp had been, they were also the warmest.

Safe in the cave with full bellies and warm fires, the clanbeasts began to talk amongst themselves. Tagg, they knew, was not like Sawney. But perhaps he would not be such a bad chieftain after all.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own Redwall

 **A/N:** This story was originally written for and posted on my Tumblr blog, RedwallThoughts. The italics are taken from the first post I made musing about what might have happened if things had turned out differently in Taggerung. The non-italics are the story that I developed afterward.

* * *

 _Imagine if Tagg was able to lead the Juskarath with compassion rather than fear, so when he took in a wandering mouse the clanbeasts didn't question it, just continued on with life._

Winter had been hard, but bearable. Between the few rations they had saved from summer, and the fish Tagg caught in the ice-covered rivers, the Juskarath hadn't needed to constantly worry about food. While they had not feasted each night, they had survived with mostly-full bellies and warm fires in the caves.

Now, with the snow melting and the days growing longer, they discovered something else. The land around the cave was fertile and full of wild, edible plants. Grissoul was overjoyed to discover healthy beds of many of the herbs she used growing nearby. By the beginning of summer, the clan had already began to harvest the fruits of the land, and had even managed to wrestle a few of the plants into something that resembled a garden.

Taggs leadership was certain now. True, Antigra still had not forgiven him for his unintentional role in the death of her husband, but the rest of the clan had decided that having Tagg for a chief was possibly the best thing that had happened in a long time.

Tagg still went wandering from time to time, sometimes disappearing from camp for days on end, only to return with some rare plant for Grissoul, or the fruits of a successful hunting trip. When he returned to the camp one evening, his trip cut short by a full five days, the clan knew something was amiss. Tagg hurried to find Grissoul, placing before her the shivering form of a harvest mouse.

"Can you heal him?" was the only thing Tagg said.

Grissoul almost refused. Had the request come from Sawney Rath, or Sawney's father, she surely would have said no. But Tagg had brought plenty to the clan, sacrificing his own needs to ensure others would not go hungry, so for him she agreed.

"I can try."

Felch was sent to gather fresh herbs, while Eefera was told to bring as much water as he could carry. For four long days and nights, Grissoul tended to the harvest mouse, using all her knowledge of woodland remedies to defeat the fever that ravaged his small body. Tagg did not leave his side. When the mouse woke, tired and weak, on the fifth day, they learned his name.

"Nimbalo," he told them.

Grissoul shooed the onlookers away before they could ask more questions, saying rest was the best cure for the mouse now. Tagg was relieved to know that Nimbalo would live. Day by day, as Nimbalo grew stronger, Tagg began to return to his habitual trips. Leaving the clan under the watchful eye of Grissoul, he would venture out with a small, handpicked band to forage or fish further afield. By mid-summer, Nimbalo was fully recovered. Working alongside the clan in the garden and playing a reed flute in the evenings, he was readily welcomed. With his tall tales he made the clanbeasts laugh until they cried, and taught them a few of the songs he had learned during his travels. Tagg did not have to worry that the clanbeasts would harm the mouse. For though he did not wear the tattoos of the clan, Nimbalo had become as much a part of the tribe as Tagg himself.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I do not own Redwall

 **A/N:** This story was originally written for and posted on my Tumblr blog, RedwallThoughts. The italics are taken from the first post I made musing about what might have happened if things had turned out differently in Taggerung. The non-italics are the story that I developed afterward.

* * *

 _Imagine if, some seasons later, the clan finds a dibbun who snuck away from the abbey and got lost. They're used to Tagg's leadership by now, so rather than kidnap the poor kid they return the dibbun to Redwall._

Pt. 1

Autumn chill was in the air. The clan's makeshift garden had produced well. Baskets full of drying berries lined the back walls of the cave. Various fruits and vegetables hung from the ceiling in braids. The Juskarath had never known such a season of plenty.

Nimbalo and Felch became Tagg's constant companions whenever he left to fish or forage. The three of them had come to greatly enjoy each other's company, and they would often while away the day conversing or singing with one another as they journeyed. It was on one such journey that they heard the cries.

"'Elp oi!" came the terrified scream.

There was no stopping to discuss what was to be done. Tagg darted ahead, assessing the situation with Felch and Nimbalo close behind. They found a young mole, up to his waist in swamp muck and sinking fast.

Thinking quickly, Tagg took a sturdy vine and wrapped it around his middle, calling out for the little mole to lay spread-eagle on the water to keep from sinking further. Within moments, Tagg had plunged into the murky water and began making his way toward the little mole. With much pulling and straining from Nimbalo and Felch on the other end of the vine, Tagg and the little mole soon arrived at the edge of the swamp. The little mole was overjoyed to be back on dry ground and told them so.

"Thankee koidly, zurs, fer savin' oi."

Tagg was more interested in learning where the little mole had come from and what he was called.

"Moi name be's Durby," he told them. "Oi comes from Redwall h'Abbey."

Tagg had heard of the place before, but knew that it was a good distance south.

"What are you doing so far from home?" he asked.

"Oi got losted," was the reply.

Unwilling to leave Durby to wander home on his own, but also knowing that surely there were others at the abbey wondering where the little mole had gone, Tagg made his decision.

"We'll take him home."

The Juskarath had already gathered the majority of the their crops, surely they could disguise the caves for a while to take young Durby home. The clanbeasts were reluctant when told the plan. They did not want to leave this place of plenty. But Tagg insisted. Eventually, they went.

Throughout the journey, Durby told them of his home and the Juskarath in turn told him of theirs. Tagg watched the tattooed vermin smiling and laughing with the little mole, and felt a sense of pride rising in him. This was his clan. Not the uncouth, sniveling creatures who had lived fearfully under Sawney's rule, but these creatures they had blossomed into. _This_ was the clan he belonged to.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I do not own Redwall

 **A/N:** This story was originally written for and posted on my Tumblr blog, RedwallThoughts. The italics are taken from the first post I made musing about what might have happened if things had turned out differently in Taggerung. The non-italics are the story that I developed afterward.

* * *

 _Imagine if, some seasons later, the clan finds a dibbun who snuck away from the abbey and got lost. They're used to Tagg's leadership by now, so rather than kidnap the poor kid they return the dibbun to Redwall._

Pt. 2

Mhera was beside herself with worry. Just five days after her appointment as abbess, and already she had lost a dibbun. No, Cregga had rephrased it last night. A dibbun had been lost not five days after Mhera became abbess. Mhera still felt guilty. Durby had wandered out of the abbey grounds while the main gate was open for woodlanders arriving for the feast to celebrate Mhera becoming abbess. Now, more than ten days later, Durby still had not been found. Mhera was beginning to fear that Durby was as far gone as her baby brother so many seasons prior.

Mhera had taken to walking around the outer wall each morning since Durby's disappearance, hoping against hope that she might look over the parapet and see the little mole trundling back home. But this morning had been like every other. She made the round of the wall without the slightest peep from the grounds below. Little Durby was nowhere to be seen.

Mhera had just rounded the corner onto the west wall again when she heard somebeast shouting from the main gate.

"Is anybeast home in there?"

Mhera stopped in her tracks and looked over the wall. The main gate was still a short distance away, but she could still make out the three figures standing on the path in front of it. The tallest of the three looked like an otter, although he was oddly dressed. Next to the otter stood a mouse, with whom he was conversing. The third figure… Mhera broke into a run. The third figure was just the right size to be a young mole and was wearing Durby's favorite red jacket.

The new abbess arrived panting above the main gate, looking over the edge of the wall down to the creatures on the path.

"Hello down there," she called out to them.

She was overjoyed to see that the third creature was indeed Durby. The otter and mouse with him explained to her how they had come to find young Durby lost in the woods, while Durby at the same time seemed to be trying to tell Mhera of his exciting adventure. Calling to the three creatures to wait, Mhera ran to find Skipper, who helped her to lift the heavy wooden beam holding the gate closed.

The two otters welcomed Durby back with open arms and hearty thank you's for his companions. Cregga arrived at the gate and, with the approval of Abbess Mhera, invited the two strangers to join the Redwallers for breakfast. The young otter and mouse stood awkwardly, looking at each other and then at the path behind them.

"The rest of our clan's still out there," the otter said.

At Mhera's bidding, the strange otter called for his clan to come out from their hiding places. The redwallers who had gathered at the gate whispered among one another at the sight of the vermin, asking each other in hushed tones if perhaps this was a trap. Mhera would have none of it. Seeing the frightened looks on the faces of the Juskarath, and with Durby still babbling his tale of how the 'noice varmints' had brought him home, she decided it was time the abbeybeasts stopped grasping at shadows.

"Your clan is also welcome to join us," she told the strange otter.

The look of relief on his face was clear. Introductions were made then, with Durby naming each of the redwallers present while Mhera and Cregga translated, and Tagg and Nimbalo calling each clanbeast forward until all stood together in front of the abbey gate. Mhera found that she could not help grinning at the sight. Durby had come home, and he had brought new friends with him. This was certain to be an interesting autumn.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I do not own Redwall

 **A/N:** This story was originally written for and posted on my Tumblr blog, RedwallThoughts. The italics are taken from the first post I made musing about what might have happened if things had turned out differently in Taggerung. The non-italics are the story that I developed afterward.

* * *

 _Imagine if the Redwallers weren't entirely sure that the clanbeasts were safe, but they know the otter leader brought back a lost dibbun, so they make an effort to accept the vermin._

It was difficult to say which of the two groups was more skeptical of the other, the Juskarath or the Redwallers.

Sister Alkanet stood at one of the dormitory windows, muttering darkly to herself about filth and disease, until she witnessed Tagg and Skipper leading the bedraggled clanbeasts to the pond, where they washed thoroughly.

The dibbuns thought it was great fun to watch the clanbeasts wash, although many of them questioned why the vermin did not run in fear at the thought of a bath. Felch just laughed and pointed at Tagg, saying that they figured that if he could be in and out of the water as many times a day as he was, then they weren't likely to catch anything by stepping in once a day.

Breakfast was an unusual affair. The clanbeasts had never seen such delicious food, and could hardly believe that they had been invited to take part. Taking cues from the parents and dibbuns scattered around the tables, they made it through the meal without any mishaps of manners, all under the watchful eyes of Tagg, Grissoul, and Mhera, and the sharp ears of Cregga.

Durby insisted in showing his newfound friends around the abbey, with Cregga and Mhera joining them. Even Nimbalo dropped his pretense of loftiness as they toured the vast and impressive grounds. Tagg found himself entranced by the tapestry which hung in Great Hall. Cregga stayed behind with him as the others left the hall. When they were alone, Tagg spoke.

"I have seen him before."

He told Cregga of the dreams which had followed him since he was a cub, and the badger listened in silence. When he had finished, she explained to him the tale of Redwall's guardian warrior. When Tagg slept that night, surrounded by his clan on the abbey lawn under the stars, he met Martin in the land of dreams, though he could not recall what the warrior mouse had said once he woke.

Cregga lay awake long into the night, puzzling over the day's events. Blind though she was, she never forgot a face, or a voice, or the sound a creature made when walking, so she had been taken aback by the young otter who sounded so much like Rillflag. Though she had not touched the otter's face, and had indeed heard from Mhera that it was covered by a large tattoo, she was certain his head would have the same structure as that of Rillflag. Perhaps, she thought, the little otterbabe had not died all those seasons ago.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I do not own Redwall

 **A/N:** This story was originally written for and posted on my Tumblr blog, RedwallThoughts. The italics are taken from the first post I made musing about what might have happened if things had turned out differently in Taggerung. The non-italics are the story that I developed afterward.

* * *

 _Imagine if, while they're at Redwall, Grissoul tells Tagg that he originally came from Redwall, and about what happened to his father._

Some days after their arrival at Redwall, Grissoul sought out Tagg. She found him at the abbey pond, swimming with Skipper and his crew. Pulling him aside, she asked to speak with him. Tagg was confused, but agreed, walking with the old vixen down past the orchards to a quite area near the back of the abbey.

There Grissoul told him of the day he had come to the Juskarath. She told him of his father, and of her omen predicting where he would come from. When she was done, Tagg sat silent, gazing into a distance she could not see while he tried to make sense of the new knowledge.

Eventually he stood, bidding Grissoul wait before telling any of the abbeybeasts of his past. He wanted to think on the matter a while longer. Grissoul agreed and left.

She was fairly certain now who Tagg's family was. She had been taken aback by the face of the pretty Abbess when they first met, recalling unbidden the sight of Tagg's face before the tattoos were placed there. She could also see that Tagg bore the same eyes as thse of the otterwife, Filorn. Tagg had taken well to the two otters, which did not surprise Grissoul. She only hoped that the three could be happy with each other if or when Tagg told them of his origin.

Cregga came and sat beside her as she watched Abbess Mhera playing with the dibbuns.

"He knows now," was all the vixen had to say.

She had suspected for some time now that the big badger had guessed Tagg's heritage. Blind creatures could recognize others by different characteristics than sight, and Grissoul and already seen the badgermother's uncanny way of sensing which creatures stood near her wherever she went.

"Do you intend to tell them?" the badger asked.

Grissoul shook her head, allowing herself a moment of silence before answering.

"I think that he will tell the council himself once he has had time to think on what I told him."

Perhaps she should have felt afraid, sitting beside the ancient badger who knew that her clan had kidnapped one of the abbey's own. Yet she felt nothing but a strange sense of calm. No omens, good or bad, had come to her since she passed through the main gate, and for once she was glad of it.

Cregga sat beside the vixen, listening to the subtle sounds the old fox made as she thought. She had expected to feel rage. But sitting beside Grissoul, and having heard over the past few days of how difficult it had been to keep the clan together under Swaney Rath, she could not bring herself to anger. Grissoul had done what she could to ensure the survival of her clan, something Cregga could appreciate, and now the vixen had helped to bring the long-lost otter-cub home. She would not ask for more.


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I do not own Redwall

 **A/N:** This story was originally written for and posted on my Tumblr blog, RedwallThoughts. The italics are taken from the first post I made musing about what might have happened if things had turned out differently in Taggerung. The non-italics are the story that I developed afterward.

* * *

 _Imagine Tagg being reunited with his mother and sister when Grissoul insists that they show the council Tagg's birthmark._

Mhera fidgeted in her seat, watching Tagg stand before the council as they found their seats. He had been strangely silent for the past two days, and Mhera could not help but wonder why he had asked for a meeting with the abbey council. Cregga, sitting next to Mhera, listened carefully to the murmurs of the council members.

Once the council members had found their seats, Grissoul came forward. She explained to the council the Juskarath legend of the Taggerung, and of how the Taggerung was found each generation. The council members looked at each other in confusion, until Grissoul told them of the omens she had read many seasons before.

"20 seasons ago, I read an omen which told of the Taggerung, born within Redwall."

The council members sat up straighter and listened closer. Grissoul told them of Sawney Rath's ambition to find the Taggerung for his clan, and of the journey to the ford. Partway through the tale, Filorn began to weep. Once Grissoul had told of Rillflag's death, she bid Tagg step forward. He came up to the council table, paw open and held out.

Mhera stood slowly, taking Tagg's paw in her own as Filorn came to stand beside her.

"I once had a baby brother with a birthmark like this."

Tagg met her eyes and saw that she had also begun to weep, though she smiled at him. Filorn placed her paws on either side of Tagg's face as she looked at him.

"I should have known," she said, "You have the same face as your father."

Tagg smiled at her. He understood now why he had taken to the two otters so quickly.

Filorn gathered her children into a close hug, whispering as she did so.

"Welcome home, Deyna."


End file.
